Free Breath on Embers by Anne Calhoun

moved.”
    Based on her low moan and shimmy, her nipples were already hard under the heavy velvet. He pulled back and slipped the first polished wood toggle through the cord, then made his way up her body, exposing belly, ribs, breasts and throat to his hand. Her skin was warm, flushed. He cupped her breasts, pinched the pleadingly erect nipples.
    “This robe is a necessity,” he said firmly. “Like peppermint mochas. Or water. Or air.”
    Her tongue touched her lower lip, like she was licking away minty chocolate and whipped cream.
    “Show me something else.”
    He leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head, considering and discarding options she held up for him before nodding his head at something that made his heart pound. She offered a white satin corset and a pair of white silk stockings, the seams up the back stopping at a tiny white bow.
    “Very nice,” he managed. His throat was dry. “Put the stockings on first.”
    She slipped out of the robe, then used the chair to steady herself, giving him a teasing glimpse of her pink cunt as she drew up first one, then the other stocking to the tops of her thighs. Her hair hid her face except for peeks of rosy lips, flushed cheeks and dark-lashed eyes. Her entire body was on display for him, and all he wanted to see was her face. Where was she? Thea could be physically present and mentally a million miles away, and this wasn’t about decorating her in order to fuck her. It was about showing her the heated, living promise of each individual moment in the hopes she’d want to stay there awhile, with him.
    “I’ll need help with the corset,” she said, and held out a length of white satin ribbon. Then she turned her back to him.
    “Sweet Christ,” he said, transfixed by the length of her back, her ass and the seamed stockings.
    She tossed her hair back out of her face as she held the corset to her ribs. He threaded the satin through the first few eyelets running the length of the corset and tightened it with a firm tug.
    A small gasp got his attention. In the mirror her eyes were wide, unblinking, and oh yeah, there she was, alive in her eyes, her hands flattened against her abdomen.
    “Okay?” he asked.
    Dark pink moved up her throat, into her cheeks. “The pressure on my stomach is...arousing,” she said.
    He glanced down at the stark line of white satin and stiff corset snugly fitted to her hips, and imagined the increased blood flow to her sex. “So,” he said, purposefully tightening another set of eyelets, “seeing you in this makes me very, very hot, and you extra sensitive.”
    She undulated in his grip, almost off balance until one hand flattened on the mirror in front of her while the other settled on her thighs. He tightened two thirds of the lacings, enough to hold the corset in place on its own. With a gentle touch he adjusted the corset so her breasts were mounded above the demi cups, then smoothed his hands over her accentuated hips. Noting how her breasts quivered with each beat of her heart, and the way her breathing shallowed, he finished lacing the corset and tied a neat bow between her shoulder blades.
    “I can’t reach that,” she said.
    Her twisting attempts to do just that sent a sharp bolt of lust down his spine to his cock. His horizons expanded with every heated moment. “Do what I say and I’ll take it off.”
    She cut him a look that was part vixen, part virgin, and all Thea. Now he had her attention. He snagged the plain wood straight-backed chair by the door and set it down in front of the chaise, then sprawled back on it. “Sit.”
    She eased down, knees primly together, back perfectly straight, her breasts elevated and offered like a sacrifice. She looked like a pinup girl from the fifties. Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat.
    Time to put her through her paces. Eyes narrowed, he studied her, as if determining whether or not to buy the ensemble. “Do that thing with your hair again.”
    Slowly,